


Ylvis Saves The World: Also Vodka

by LillieWescott



Series: Ylvis Saves the World [4]
Category: Ylvis
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Metafiction, Writing Exercise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:16:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LillieWescott/pseuds/LillieWescott
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ylvis gets lost in another short fanfic and accidentally prevents World War III.  Apologies for everything to everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ylvis Saves The World: Also Vodka

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoosonja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosonja/gifts).



> A writing challenge was pointed out to me yesterday by hoosonja, who wrote a recent family-safe story in easy-to-understand Norwegian, and that made me so happy that I feel I owe her a story in gratitude. The challenge was: in as short a form as possible, write a story that makes you laugh, cry and think. So I wrote this today because it's me, and I have the flu, and I want to cheer myself up. Of course, Ylvis saves the world, as per usual. And don't worry. Despite the goal of making you cry, I doubt you will. Because it's me, major characters never die.

* * *

"Vegard!" Bård inched himself forward and squinted down into the dark hole made by the now shattered wooden boards. "Vegard, can you hear me?"

Bård held his breath, listening for some sign of his older brother. All he could hear was the gentle sound of the wind rustling the leaves of the surrounding forest. If Vegard was lying at the bottom of some pit with a broken leg they would not make it home alive. 

They'd been taking a break from filming here in Belarus and gone on a sightseeing day trip. Two hours into the trip into the mostly deserted countryside the ancient van they'd been riding had skidded off a back road to avoid hitting a moose; the van bounced off of a tree and skidded on its side into a lake. The driver had been killed instantly, and the other two survivors of the tour, a very pleasant middle-aged Latvian couple, had been torn apart by rabid polecats late the same morning. 

The brothers trudged north throughout the afternoon and came upon a huddle of low, mostly destroyed, brick and wooden buildings hidden by surrounding woods. They'd been looking for a suitable place to spend the night when Vegard suddenly yelped and disappeared through the wooden boards of what they thought was just a pathway between the rubble of two old structures.

"Vegard, answer me!"

"I'm here." He didn't sound far away. A good sign.

"Where are you?"

"I don't know; it's dark."

"Are you hurt?"

"Probably. This feels like fan fiction."

Bård grimaced. If Vegard was right, he was probably skewered by rebar in three places and Bård would have to make it down to him over the course of days, hungry and afraid. Then probably their clothes would fall off and some sort of horrible disturbing taboo sex thing would happen that only a case of vodka could make him forget. He shuddered in revulsion. He closed his eyes and prayed Vegard was wrong. Last time they were trapped in fanfiction, Vegard had died in his arms and when he got home Bård was stuck with Vegard's stupid cats. It had taken three tries to run them over properly.

"No wait, I'm … my eyes are adjusting. I'm in a room. I can see you."

Bård shaded his eyes. "I can't see you. Are you hurt?"

"My leg. I think I fell onto rebar. I'm stuck."

Bård shouted, _"Fy faen!"_ and pushed himself up to stand. He pushed his hands through his short hair. "Okay, let me go see if I can find a rope."

"This is definitely a room. There must be stairs or a ladder or a door. Look around."

"Are you going to bleed to death?"

"No, I think it miraculously missed any major blood vessels."

Bård rolled his eyes. "Okay. Hold on. And don't take off your clothes this time!"

"Gah! Don't remind me about that! There's no vodka down here!"

It took twenty minutes of gingerly exploring the ruins to find a stone staircase leading into the ground. It was thick with overgrown vines and the afternoon shadows had grown long by the time Bård got it cleared away. He'd worked up a sweat doing it, and now the dampness of his hoodie made him shiver. 

At the bottom of the stairs he found an old kerosene lantern, a flint lighter and some pamphlets written in German. They were faded and he couldn't translate the writing. He lit the lantern and cautiously made his way through what looked like an old style laboratory. There were papers and broken wooden chairs and tables everywhere. He turned and pulled the door knob of a wooden door marked with the number "101" and jumped away reflexively when the door fell off its rusted hinges. It slammed onto the ground with a deafening crash. He took a few steps into the room and then drew back in horror. The room held four beds, and each was occupied by a skeleton, each chained to the bed by the neck. What was this place?

Then he heard Vegard calling. "Bård? Was that you? Are you hurt or…?"

"Yes, I'm coming. Keep your pants on. Literally. I mean it. Do not remove your pants."

 _"Jesus Christ._ Hurry up!"

Bård found another door and pulled it open carefully. He took a hesitant step across the threshold and raised his lantern high. It looked like Vegard had fallen onto a table or something similar. It had collapsed (probably breaking his fall), and he'd ended up on the concrete floor. Unfortunately this was obviously an old chemistry lab, and Vegard had impaled himself on a rusty retort stand and fallen into glassware, possibly stored underneath the old table. So now there was a metal rod and shards of glass pressed through his outer right thigh. Despite Vegard's earlier claim, he was lying in a dark pool of his own blood amidst the wooden splinters and scattered rumpled papers.

Bård rushed to his brother's side and put the lantern down onto the ground. "Dammit, Vegard, if you die on me I'm going to kill your _drittkattene."_

"I knew I should have written a will."

"You promised not to die again!"

"This time don't take Helene as your second wife."

"I can't help it if Malaysian polygamists have nothing better to do than write poorly conceived erotic stories about obscure Norwegian comedians."

"Promise me!" 

Bård let out a breath. "Look, don't be so pessimistic. We can get out of this. Give me your belt."

"No?"

"Don't be absurd. I'll use it as a tourniquet."

"Oh, okay, fine."

Bård took the proffered belt and pulled it tight around Vegard's thigh. He carefully inspected the wound and said, "I'm going to have to pull out the metal bar."

"Okay. Do it."

Bård looked up at his brother. Vegard was resting on his elbows. He was corpse-white, sweaty and frightened. But when he realized Bård was studying him, Vegard mustered a brave smile. "Don't worry about me. Just do it."

Bård took a deep breath, and then pulled the bar free. It slid out with a sickening sucking noise and began bleeding. He reached up and tightened the belt. Vegard let out a cry of pain.

"Too tight!"

"Either you lose the leg or I lose my brother. I'm not letting that happen. Ever again. Fuck the Malaysians."

Vegard gritted his teeth. "Okay, help me get the glass out and we can bandage and pack it."

"I don't have any bandages."

"Rip up my sweatshirt." He began struggling out of his hoodie. "And cut off the leg of my jeans."

Bård narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Why do you want to take off your clothes? I swear to god I'll leave you down here to die if you try anything."

 _"Helvete, nei! Fy faen,_ I only like girls! And you are my kid brother. _Æsh._ And you also smell like rotting eggs."

"That's not me. That's this place." Bård dug his pocketknife out of his jeans and began tearing up the cloth. 

Vegard pulled out his own knife and cut at his own jeans. He paused. "That smell."

"What about it?"

"Do you think it smells of natural gas?"

Bård looked at the flame in the lantern. He shoved the strips of sweatshirt fabric into Vegard's hands.

Vegard protested, "What are you doing?!"

"Shut up. Stand up."

"Okay?"

Bård pulled Vegard up to stand on one leg, and then bent down and lifted him in a fireman's carry. As he took the last careful steps up the stone steps and into the afternoon light, the rooms behind them exploded, throwing the brothers to the ground. Bård crawled to his brother and sheltered him with his own body as splinters of wood rained down on them.

When the smoke cleared, Bård pushed himself up and shook Vegard. "Come on, let me finish bandaging your leg."

Vegard didn't answer. Bård's heart leapt to his mouth. He turned his brother over. He wasn't breathing.

"Oh, no you don't! Not this time!"

Bård fastened his mouth over his brother's and gave Vegard two breaths. 

Vegard choked and pushed Bård away. "Cut it out! That's… disgusting. What the hell have you been eating?!"

Bård drew back. "Yoghurt. Sorry, I thought you were… I'm glad you're okay." 

"Yeah, back off."

"Sorry." Bård frowned at the blood appearing on Vegard's shoulder. "You're bleeding there."

Vegard frowned and pulled up the sleeve. "No I'm not, I'm…" He looked up at Bård. "Oh my god."

Bård's smile faded as he realized the blood had dripped off of him, onto his brother. He put a hand to his neck. It came away slick with blood. He felt dizzy. He fell onto his shoulder, onto the ground, next to Vegard.

Vegard pushed himself up on his elbow. _"Nei nei nei nei,_ Bård. We never _both_ die in these stories."

Bård swallowed heavily. "Maybe this is the real thing for once. Maybe we're awake and this is real."

Vegard's eyes filled with frantic tears and he pressed at the wound on Bård's neck. He looked around. A plume of dark smoke from the explosion reached into the sky. Surely someone would see it and come to their rescue. He looked back down at Bård. He was pale, so pale. 

It was Vegard's turn to sit up. He pulled Bård into his arms, ignoring the agony in his leg. Bård muttered, "If you kiss me, I'll haunt your skinny ass for eternity."

Vegard's choked out, "You can't haunt me if you don't die. Just hang on, I'm sure someone will have seen the explosion." He pushed Bård's hair off of his forehead. "Open your eyes. Bård! Open your eyes and stay awake."

Bård opened his eyes. Vegard was crying again. Bård said softly, "Don't be such a weak fuck, Vegard. It was bound to happen at some point. Between all the stunts we pull and heroically saving the world every few months our luck had to eventually run out."

"I never wanted any of this. I just wanted to have a quiet life and be happy." 

Vegard's tears were dripping onto Bård's face. They tasted salty. _Æsh._ Bård whispered, "You're crying and it got in my mouth."

"Sorry." 

"It's bad enough I'm bleeding to death."

"I said I am sorry!" Vegard pursed his lips and his eyes travelled over Bård's face. "Don't die. Help will come."

"I'm trying not to die."

"I can't lose you. It would be like losing both my legs, or my wife, or one of the kids. You've been with me forever. All the time. Actually, maybe that is a little weird."

"Try not to think about it." Bård's eyes fluttered.

Vegard bent down and kissed Bård's forehead. "Don't you dare go to sleep."

 _"Faen,_ don't do that. Gross."

"Sorry." Vegard squeezed Bård in his arms.

"Stop hugging me! You're being weird." Bård was scared. It was hard to move. He felt nauseated and he was sweating. Maybe this was real. He was dying right now. So quickly. Surely if this wasn't real it would take at least three pages to die. He said weakly, "No, go ahead. You can hug me. I'm cold. I'm…"

Vegard sniffed wetly and held his brother tightly. "I won't let you go."

Bård didn't answer. Vegard couldn't wake him up. In his despair he loosed the tourniquet around his own leg. He couldn't go on without Bård.

 

Only a short distance from the weeping man, rocking his brother in his arms as his own life's blood drained away, a wooden box of test tubes, each containing a dry powder, caught a spark in the old laboratory's wreckage and began to burn. The label on the outside of the small box was in written in German. It read: "Weaponized smallpox, final product. Ready for testing in Bærum, Norway. To be shipped May 8, 1945."

 

A quarter-mile away, a pair of Russian secret forces specialists studied the countryside through binoculars. "Did you hear that, Alexei?"

"Was explosion, Pavel."

Pavel pointed north. "Is pillar of smoke. Look. Aircraft is approaching. What we do now?"

Alexei sighed and took a swig of vodka from his hip flask. "Now, we go home and smoke poor-quality cigarettes and drink vodka like good Russian patriots. Our mission to find weaponized smallpox is failure. So much for plan to start world war three."

"Last one home is rotten potato, Alexei."

"At least this time Ylvis not ones to ruin our plans."

 _"Bozhe moi!_ You are right!"

"Of course right, Pavel. Am always right." 

 

In a darkened room, thirty miles from the border with Singapore, Rania closed her journal with a sigh. She'd have to finish the story tomorrow. Tomorrow she would have the aircraft turn out to be an alien spaceship. The alien invaders would save Ylvis and then inevitably want to probe them. That could happen. But for now, second wife was calling her to help with dinner. Stupid second wife was so bossy.

 

This story was brought to you by the International Ylvis & Vodka League, Malaysian Chapter. 

_"If you have to drink, drink vodka. It takes away the pain."_

[](http://s1113.photobucket.com/user/LillieWescott/media/YlvisVodka700Proper_zpsw8fctppo.jpg.html)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I was hoping to make this a gripping drama in which the reader would shudder at the possibility of old evil Nazi science being randomly hidden in some forest, and then of course there would be crying from obligatory fanfic Ylvis-bashing, but I just couldn't bring myself to let one or both die and have one think about the other and be sad and make myself all weepy and sad and then have to comfort myself by gorging on cheesecake and/or chocolate. Mostly because I am sick and there is no such food in the house. All I have is half-a-bottle of Mountain Dew and some dodgy crackers. This wasn't my best work. _Mea culpa._


End file.
